Captivated
by meant-for-nothing
Summary: Quaxo is captivated by a beautiful and graceful white cat. He can't get his mind off her, but there may be more pressing matters to attend to... QUAXOxVICTORIA Rated for possible future language use
1. A  Dance

**A/N: eep, sorry I didn't put in an authors note before this. I didn't even think about it. Well, this is my Cats fanfiction. I LOVELOVELOVE the musical, and pretty much get shivers when watching it, so I figured a fanfiction was in order. I have no idea how long this will be, but it has MistoVictoria so I'm happy! Enjoy and PLEASE R&R!!**

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**_Chapter 1_**

**_A Dance_**

Two yellow orbs gleamed from the shadows. Slowly and carefully a lithe body slipped its way into the light. The moon, now full, cast pale reflections on the queen's snow white pelt. With unspeakable grace she crept across the cleared ground. Her paws barely made a sound as they touched down on the cool earth.

She began her smooth movements—twisting to some imaginary song playing sweetly in her mind. With motions only possible for a cat she swept across the ground.

She was not alone. Another pair of eyes watched transfixed as she danced lightly around the junkyard. This cat was hidden neatly within the shadows of a pipe. His paws trembled with the urge to go to her, but he locked himself in place, whiskers twitching. She was beautiful. He couldn't think of anything but her. And that dance… she danced like an angel.

He watched as the moon sank lower and lower in the sky, and her fevered dancing became tired. She danced until pink glowed on the horizon. She crept back into her place in the shadows only seconds before the soft mews of waking cats sounded through the junkyard.

Something about her dance, or maybe the fact that it was the ninth rising of the full moon, reminded him how close the Jellicle Ball was: only a few moons away. He made a promise to himself that he would know her name before that time and that he would speak to her.

His eyelids felt heavy from a night without sleep, but he didn't complain. He wouldn't have missed her dance for the world.

A paw prodded him in the side, pulling him out of his reverie. "Heya, Quaxo!" Tugger. Of course.

Quaxo stood and stretched, his limbs stiff from not moving a muscle for so long. "Hey, Tug. Can you tone down the energy?"

The Rum Tum Tugger smiled, his tail swishing energetically behind him. "Aw, come on! There's places to go, queens to catch."

Quaxo sighed. There was only one queen he was interested in, but he didn't even know her name.

"Get up, already! I think the smell from this pipe is rotting your brain. Get some fresh air!"

The air outside the pipe wasn't exactly "fresh"—it was a junkyard for Pete's sake!—but it _was_ better. Getting his mind off the white queen from last night was easier in the open space: easier, but not easy. As Tugger blathered on about queens and kits and fancats Quaxo's mind kept flitting back to the cat he yearned to see. He knew he'd seen her before, mingling with other Jellicles, but never had she shown the grace of her dancing. Never had he looked at her long enough to see her beauty.

A paw smacked him across the back of the head. "Hello-o! I _said_ Munkustrap is looking for you."

Quaxo blinked. "Oh, sorry…" He took in a deep breath, searching out Munkustrap's scent from the rest. It wasn't exactly a pleasant task: even the strong smell of cats wasn't enough to mask the reek of the junkyard. Still, after several nose-burning breaths he was able to discern Munkustrap's scent and follow it. He didn't bother to ask Tugger who had told him this. Another cat had probably come up to talk to them while he was thinking about _her_.

"Munkustrap?" Quaxo asked, ears pricked. Not far off he heard the reply.

"Quaxo! There you are. I need to talk to you." By the tone in the tribe protector's voice this wasn't going to be good. Quaxo waited for him to continue. "I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to be Mistoffelees for a bit." Being Quaxo all the time was easier than being Mistoffelees—as he had discovered early on. When he was Mistoffelees cats were always asking him to do constant magic, whether it was to help them find something or just to entertain them. When he was Quaxo he could still do magic, but it was limited, and no one asked anything of him.

Quaxo sighed. He was already using nearly all of his limited Quaxo powers to keep the protections around the junkyard. They were basic, but they kept unfriendly visitors out. "You know how much energy that takes, Munkustrap. I'm already using most of it keeping this place protected."

Munkustrap frowned. "That's just it. The Jellicle Ball is getting close. I'm worried that Macavity…" He trailed off.

Quaxo breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that all?" Munkustrap's glare of disapproval made him reword his sentence. "Don't worry. I'll know if Macavity is anywhere near. The Ball is still too far away for us to be thinking about him."

Munkustrap looked down at his paws. "It's just… I want her… I want the tribe to be safe."

He smiled and put a gentle paw on the other tom's shoulder. "I know you worry about her, but it's fine." It was understandable for Munkustrap to be worried about Demeter, his mate-to-be. She'd been victimized by Macavity once, and it had taken a very long time and a very many friends to get her back to normal.

"If you're sure…" Munkustrap seemed uncertain.

Quaxo assured him that all was fine and went about his way. There was a queen he needed to find, now that he'd suddenly gained the ambition to find her. It would be difficult though. When she had danced he hadn't thought to memorize her scent, and without a name who could he ask? So he wandered blindly, searching for her, the one who would not leave his mind.

It was like a vision, what he saw next. There, curled up peacefully on the hood of a broken down car, was the white queen he'd spent hours looking for. He took a shaky step forward, not sure if any of it was real. He leapt neatly onto the car next to her. She didn't stir. Surely, positively, this must be a phantom, a dream his weary mind conjured up to spite him.

Unable to take his eyes off her, he gently reached out and touched a paw to her flank. Her eyes shot open and he jumped back, barely catching himself from tumbling off the car. "S-sorry!" He squeaked, awed.

She looked confused at first, but then a warm smile spread through her eyes and he struggled against the weakness in his limbs. "I know you," she purred, in a voice as musical and fluid as her dancing, "You're Quaxo, right?"

She knew him. It was enough to make him burst with joy. "I… er… yes." He tried to compose his thoughts, each running pell-mell through his mind and trampling over one another.

She suppressed an airy giggle. Her tail waved lazily behind her and she pulled herself swiftly to her feet. Cocking her head to the side she smiled at him again. "I'm Victoria."

Victoria. The name he'd searched for, for what felt like days had finally reached his ears. He savored it, burned it into his memory so that he'd never forget it. Victoria.


	2. A Cat's Sixth Sense

**A/N: haha! I remembered to do the authors note BEFORE posting the story this time. I lost my view count for the first one because I had to edit it and delete the old chap… I hope I didn't lose reviews too! That would suck! Anyways here it is. I hope you enjoy**

**I know I'm posting this really soon but I wanted to get it out so that it didn't look like a oneshot. **

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_**Chapter T wo**_

_**A Cat's Sixth Sense**_

The closer the Jellicle Ball, the more uneasy Munkustrap became, and when Munkustrap was uneasy _everyone_ was uneasy. The cat usually had a calming, protective feeling about him, but with that gone none of the cats found it easy to sleep at night.

None of the cats, that is, except Quaxo. How could he worry about Munkustrap's paranoia when there was a beautiful white cat to think about? He was caught in the blissful oblivion of his own destruction, and he knew it. Not that he cared. Anything was worth it just to be around her, to receive the occasional friendly nuzzle, to look into those eyes…

He was getting ahead of himself. Relationships were gradual things; they'd only just become friends. But he could wait. It would all be worth it in the end.

"Misto!" That joyful purr made his heart flutter. He bounded up to meet her, brushing he side of his head gently against hers in greeting. "What do you want to do?" She squealed. It has hard—no impossible—not to be caught up in her playful energy.

He shrugged, resisting the urge to bounce up and down—an urge that_ she_ clearly wasn't resisting.

It was the Rum Tum Tugger who interrupted their conversation, slinking in with a visible sway of his hips. "Heeey, Quax. Who's this dream-on-white-paws?" He was laying the "charm" on thick, but then again, that was his style. For once, Quaxo didn't find it at all funny.

"Her name's _Victoria_," he spat out, with more venom than could go unnoticed.

"Oh-ho-ho!" Tugger raised his paws into the air, backing away with a look of temporary surrender. "Don't bite off my head, champ, I was just asking."

Victoria let out a bell like laugh. "Hello, Tugger." Quaxo wasn't sure if he should be amazed or frightened by how she knew everyone's name before they knew hers.

Tugger, of course, wasn't at all surprised. It's not like word of him didn't make its way around the queens with unimaginably speed. He took a few steps closer to her, walking with the rhythmic, seductive swagger he was known for. Her eyes followed that sway like all other queens.

Quaxo was terrified. Was he losing her this early on? And to _Tugger_ of all cats? He took a quick step between them, his back to Victoria, sending warnings to Tugger with his eyes. "Tugger," he growled under his breath, so quietly that Victoria couldn't hear him. "Watch it." He raised his voice, forcing faux cheer into it. "Victoria and I were looking for something to do, want to join us?"

_Finally_ Tugger took the hint. Laughter sparkled in his eyes and he shook his head. "That's alright. I need to go find Bomba anyways. Later!" He winked at Quaxo and bounded off in the other direction humming his song to himself.

Quaxo's muscles were now able to relax. He turned back to Victoria, a genuine smile on his face.

"What was that about?" Her eyes were wide and curious.

He shook his head. "Just… Tugger," he laughed, "He can be such a pain."

She grinned. "So you're friends with the Rum Tum Tugger? I'd never have guessed."

His tail swished happily. "No kidding."

"_Quaxo!_" Quaxo cringed. So much for some time with Victoria. What would Munkustrap possibly have to say that was so urgent? Couldn't it wait?

Munkustrap came barreling around the corner. "There you… are!" He panted, stumbling over his own paws in his attempt to stop. Victoria helped him to his paws and they both waited patiently for him to catch his breath.

After a few minutes the silver tabby continued, "Are you _sure_ everything's alright?" It took Quaxo a moment to realize what he was talking about. Macavity. Of course.

He sighed. This wasn't at all how he'd wanted the day to start. "Yes, everything is perfectly fine. Tell Demeter to calm down. I'll know the second he gets within a hundred feet of the junkyard."

Munkustrap's eyes were troubled. "Will that be enough time?"

"More than enough," he pushed lightly against the tom's shoulder, directing him back the way he had come, "You'll be the first to know. Now go to her."

The tribe protector nodded crisply and set off swiftly—though no where near as recklessly—back in the way he came. Another sigh escaped him. These interruptions just wouldn't work. How was he supposed to enjoy a whole day with Victoria if cats kept bouncing in to ruin it?

Victoria was staring at him. "What was he talking about?"

Quaxo grinned reassuringly. "Nothing. Pure paranoia is all." He began walking, Victoria following into step at his side. He looked around for somewhere secluded enough that they wouldn't be bothered.

They passed Etcetera—looking for Tugger—Bombalurina—looked for _by_ Tugger—and Jemima—murmuring something about skinning Tugger. Victoria laughed at each one, her shoulders shaking silently. "Looks like Tugger's the star of the evening, doesn't it?"

Quaxo rolled his eyes. "This evening, and yesterday evening, and tomorrow evening, and _every_ evening."

With a little giggle she swatted his nose with her tail. "You sound jealous."

He blinked, wrinkling his nose in surprise. "No," he flexed his snout a few more times, "not jealous, just bored with it. It's always the same thing."

"A boring Rum Tum Tugger, what a concept." She smiled, then paused in her walking, glancing around. "Are we going anywhere in particular?"

He shrugged. "I guess not."

I mischievous look passed across her features. She bumped playfully against his side. "Then lemme show you something!" She took off and he followed gleefully.

A few of the older toms and queens stuck their head out to scold the younger cats. ("Quiet down; some of us are sleeping!" and "My old ears can't take all that racket!") Not that they paid them any mind.

Quaxo didn't pay attention to their surroundings, just bounded breathlessly behind Victoria's white body. He almost crashed into the car when she leapt onto it. His senses registered it just in time to stop himself and mimic the action.

They were on top of an old, rusted car that could have been red once, but it was so broken down it was hard to tell. There weren't any other cats around. He knew they must be deep in the junkyard, as he didn't recognize this place himself. He had been so involved talking with Victoria that he hadn't noticed the sun creeping closer and closer to the horizon. Now the last glows of pink were dieing away, replaced by the blues and lavenders of night.

He sat, captivated, as one by one the stars peeked out from their daytime hiding spots. Victoria curled up beside him, pressing her warm flank to his. Her head rested lightly on his front paws and occasionally her whiskers would tickle his leg.

"Wow…" he breathed, as if speaking too loud would frighten the stars away. Her eyes were closed. She rubbed her head against his legs a few times, half asleep.

She spoke in a slightly slurred purr. She sounded both tired and wide awake somehow. "Mhm… just wait 'till the moon rises."

He saw it peeking out from the opposite horizon line, waxing near full. It _was_ close to the Jellicle Ball. He _should_ have been worrying about Macavity. But right then, he didn't care.

Something prickled at the back of his mind; an eerily familiar sensation. He'd felt it once before, but he couldn't think when. It would be there, right on the tip of his tongue and then Victoria would purr, or move, or smile and he would lose it.

He decided to let it stay lost. It was an unpleasant feeling; he didn't want it intruding on this bliss. So he let it go, let it slip away and thought of nothing but the warmth of Victoria by his side.


	3. Will You Dance With Me?

**A/N: HOLY CRUD, I just realized that through this whole thing I never put my disclaimer up. WHOOPS. Well incase it wasn't obvious, CATS isn't mine::sounds of shock ripple through audience:: I know! Crazy, right? Anyways, here is chapter three. I've been updating a lot this weekend since I don't know when I'll be able to again, so savor these chappies! Hehe.**

**Yes it's another chapter with "dance" in the title. Yay.**

**Oh and reviews make me leap for joy through meadows of pretty flowers on bright sunny days and… ::brain is burned by the girly-ness of that image:: never mind about that last bit, just REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, CATS not mine. woot.**

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_**Chapter Three**_

_**Will You Dance With Me?**_

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It was clear to everyone that Munkustrap's nerves were running on end, but he didn't pester Quaxo. He trusted the tom, though paranoia ripped through him like a claw. Quaxo obviously felt nothing of the anxiousness he was suffering from, at least, not when around a certain queen.

Quaxo was curled up on a large pile of junk sunning himself. He purred in satisfaction as his pelt warmed nicely. His tail flicked in rhythm with his relaxed heartbeat. Twitch… twitch… twitch… twitch… POUNCE.

He jumped in surprise when a pair of paws came crashing down onto his tail. The fur along his spine rose involuntarily. He swung around ready to box Tugger's ears for startling him, but it was a white face grinning mischievously back at him. He relaxed and sent a smile back at her.

She raised a paw and smoothed the ruffled fur on his head. "You're a mess," she laughed, swishing her tail playfully against his side.

He winced, another headache was coming on. He'd been having them a lot in the past couple of days, ever since the night he and Victoria had sat on the roof of the car and watched the moon rise. She looked concerned. "A headache again?"

"It's nothing."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Please, you keep saying that but they never get any better. Are you _sure_ you don't want to go see Jennyanydots?"

He waved his tail as if it didn't matter, doing his best to hide that fact that the pain was getting worse. She didn't seem very convinced, but she didn't mention it again, only pressed her side against his in a way almost protective.

He smiled and shook his head slowly. She didn't need to worry about him so much. He could deal with a few headaches…

A sharp stab of pain told him that she could be right, but he ignored it. Today was another blissful day he could spend with her. The Jellicle Ball was only a few days away, so if he was going to ask her to dance it was now or never.

He barely noticed who they passed now. He'd stopped blushing at the "knowing" smiles and giggles of those who saw them. They didn't understand anyway. Despite his love for Victoria, they _were_ still just friends, though he hoped they could be more.

Quaxo couldn't _not_ notice when a certain tom sauntered up. At first glance he thought it was just another cat passing by, but a second look made him realize it was Plato. He felt his fur rise. It was no secret that Plato had been eyeing Victoria for a while now—ever since Quaxo had shown interest.

Victoria didn't notice him until he was close to her, nuzzling her face in a way that was far more than friendly. She leapt back, glaring. He just smiled inching his way toward her again. His paw fell lightly on hers, claws extended only slightly so that her paw was pinned down.

Quaxo could see the tension prickling around her, though he couldn't see why she didn't move her paw. He knocked Plato out of the way. Victoria winced when Plato's claws sliced across her paw, but said nothing. Quaxo was baring his teeth menacingly at Plato. "Screw off," he hissed, hackles raised.

Plato chucked, unfazed. "Why should I?"

"She's not interested?"

Plato brushed past him, pressing his mussel to Victoria's. "Let her answer for herself."

She blinked, eyes crossing to look at him properly, then spat at him, jumping back. "Leave me the Hell alone, Plato."

"O-oh," he purred, running his tail across her mussel, "There's some fire in you after all."

That was all Quaxo could take. His paw shot out, claws unsheathed, and raked Plato across the flank. The other tom hissed in pain and swung around to face him. "Watch it!" The cat's smooth words were laced with venom now, his mask of calmness torn down.

Quaxo hissed at him, snapping his jaws threateningly. His muscles were bunched, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

Plato launched himself at the other tom. Quaxo dodged but Plato's claw grazed his side. He winced and swung around, leaping back at Plato. He embedded his back claws in Plato's shoulder, tearing downward. The cut wasn't very deep, but it would leave a ragged scar.

"Hold it!" The high voice interrupted their fight. Jennyanydots was flouncing toward them, anger blazing in her eyes. "Break it up, you two, break it up!" She shouldered her way between them. Her eyes darted to Quaxo, "I thought a cat as vital to our safety as you would know better, and you," she whipped around to Plato, "_You_ have wounds that need attending. Come this way."

Plato followed grumpily, shooting a last furious glance back at Quaxo. Quaxo returned it with even more ferocity. When Plato was well out of sight he turned to Victoria, who had been oddly quiet through the whole ordeal.

She was standing off to the side, staring at her paws and trembling. He rushed to her, nuzzling her face gently. "Are you alright?" She nodded.

He looked down, about to apologize for letting things get so out of hand when he saw the little splash of crimson staining her snowy paw. He gasped and bent down immediately to examine it. "Victoria, I'm so sorry! What happened?"

She blinked up at him in surprise. "What? I'm fine! Really, you're hurt more than I am. I'm sorry…"

He laughed. "You're acting like it's your fault."

She scuffed her paws guiltily. "It kind of is."

He nuzzled her again. "It's not, and you know it."

She shrugged and set off walking. He followed after her, keeping a bright demeanor in the hope it would rub off on her. "Come on, smile just once."

Victoria grimaced. "He's just a jerk. You shouldn't have gotten yourself hurt over him."

He bumped her playfully. "I don't mind."

She rolled her eyes. "Boys…"

Quaxo chuckled. "Answer something for me, will you?"

"Sure."

"It's about the Jellicle Ball."

She cocked her head questioningly. "What?"

"Will you dance with me?"

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**A/N: oh look, a pretty ending author's note! Reason being that I am reminding ::cough::begging::cough::, once again, how much I love reviews. I'm proud of this fanfic thus far and I'd love to know what you guys think of it.**

**I didn't like this chapter as much as the others for some reasong ::shrug:: maybe it's just me. Anyway, WHAT DO YOU THINK?**


	4. Headaches

**A/N: I **_**was**_** going to make this a really short chapter, but I changed my mind and made it really long instead! Aren't you happy? So read, enjoy, and –review- pretty please!**

**And before anyone (not saying anyone will, but I gotta take precautions here) makes a comment on it, cats lick each other to show affection! It's not some kind of crazy sexual gesture! It's cute. Get over it.**

**So yeah, I was nice and updated one last time before the weekend is over. ENJOYZ**

**Disclaimer: If CATS were mine I wouldn't spend my time writing CATS fanfictions…**

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Headaches**_

The Rum Tum Tugger held back a gasp of surprise—he didn't want to give his hiding place away. Had shy, innocent little Quaxo just asked what he thought he'd just asked? Since when did the kid have any guts for that sort of thing? _He_ was the one who went shamelessly after the queens; Quaxo was the one who sat back and laughed at his failed attempts.

But now… what would happen now? If Quaxo got up some courage… would he be outshined by his own best friend? No. That was impossible. No one outshined him. He was the Rum Tum Tugger after all: the curious cat, the daredevil, the king! There was no way a little tom like Quaxo would be able to take his place!

Right?

"Tugger!" The hushed voice made him jump. He looked up to see Jemima glaring down at him. "What are you doing?"

He smoothed down his fur, falling easily into his cool, charming personality. "Nothing much," he meowed back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, "Only eavesdropping."

Her eyes went wide. "Tugger!" she said again, more scolding than the first time, "Leave them alone!" She paused, tail twitching slightly. Curiosity burned in her eyes. "Who… are they, exactly?" She asked, cocking her head.

Tugger smirked. "Quaxo and Victoria."

Jemima had always been good at playing goody-two-paws, but even she was guilty of gossip. She slunk into the spot next to him, pricking her ears and looking disbelievingly at Tugger. "No way! Really?"

He nodded. "Yup. He just asked her to dance with him at the ball."

She flicked an ear in surprise. "You're kidding? Are we talking about the same tom?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't believe it either."

"Shh, shh, shh!" She batted him with her paw, "I'm trying to hear her answer!"

Tugger pricked up his ears as well; this would be interesting.

Much to the displeasure of the eavesdroppers, there wasn't much to listen to. Victoria's eyes shone with happiness and she nuzzled Quaxo ecstatically. "Of course!" she purred, nearly bouncing in excitement.

He grinned. "I didn't expect this much enthusiasm!" He brushed his head softly against her shoulder murmuring, "thanks," into her ear.

Instead of answering she swept teasingly at his tail, pouncing at it but missing when he whipped it out of the way. "Hey!" He laughed, tumbling onto his back and pawing up at her.

She giggled too and leapt out of his reach. Their play fight lasted several minutes as they tumbled over cats, trash, cars, and anything else that got in their way. Even when they stopped, both of them panting, the laughing continued. Many nearby cats watched them—the old toms and queens looking nostalgic, the young kits gleeful at the new gossip subject, but all of them smiling, all of them happy for shy, little Quaxo.

These headaches were getting annoying. Why did they have to interrupt his happiest moments? Why now, when utter piece of mind had filled him, did they have to come and shatter it all? He groaned. It was worse this time. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear until it stopped.

Victoria rolled over to face him, worry showing clear on her face. "Quaxo…"

He wanted to say "I'm fine", he wanted to say "we don't need to see Jennyanydots", but his mouth wouldn't form words. All he could do was tremble in pain. This was the worse it had ever been… no not quite… but something had relieved it the last time. What was it? If only something could stop this pain…

"_Quaxo!_" her scream was distant to him, as if she was far away or he was under water. He reached out searching for her warm pelt by his side, but his limbs would not obey his brain's command. He lay limp, wondering when the pain would end.

Sweet unconsciousness, when it came, was the greatest gift he could have asked for. He embraced the blackness, the numbness. Finally the pain could end.

Munkustrap's tail lashed viciously. This was getting ridiculous! The Jellicle Ball was _so_ close. Macavity _must_ have gotten near the junkyard by now, so why hadn't he been alerted of it? Quaxo was supposed to come to him the second he knew; he was supposed to change into Mistoffelees and protect the tribe from their enemy!

Demeter's soft pelt brushed against him. Her sweet voice purred into his ear, "Calm down, Munkustrap. It's fine."

He shook his head vigorously. "No! It's not fine! Macav-" Her tail pressed over his mouth.

"Don't do this to yourself. You know that Quaxo will tell you when he comes close."

"Shouldn't you be worried? _Why am I the only one concerned_?" He demanded.

She nuzzled him lovingly. "We're all concerned, but we _trust Quaxo_. You should too."

That hurt a little. Was she accusing him of not trusting each and every member of their tribe? "I _do_ trust him I just… worry."

She laughed. "Look at you, you'll go white before your time."

He looked nervously down at his paws. Was he really getting white hairs already? He only saw gray and black mixed into his fur and white where it rightly belonged.

She bumped his shoulder with a giggle. "Come on, Munku; I was teasing."

"Right, sorry."

"You seem so distracted," she purred, doing her best to comfort him, to make him smile.

"I am."

"Honestly, you act as if you're carrying the weight of the world on your paws! You're not in this alone, you know. We'll all die to protect the tribe."

He frowned. "That's what I'm worried about."

Demeter let out an exasperated sigh. "Sweet Everlasting Cat, Munkustrap! Can no one get through to you?" She turned to leave him to his pessimistic musings, but he put a paw in her path. She looked up and saw a sad attempt at a smile on his features.

"I'm trying, De. I really am."

She sighed again and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I know you are; the whole tribe knows you are, and if any cat doesn't know then they don't _deserve_ the name cat."

"I think you're overreacting a little bit," he purred.

"Hardly," she scoffed, "There's nothing wrong with loyalty, but don't you think you're pushing it a little too far?"

His mouth dropped open. "_What?_"

"You're no good to us like this; you're so panicky and frazzled out that the rest of the cats don't know what to do."

Munkustrap sighed. She was right. She was more than right, but it was hard to just forget about it—hard to put the life of his love in the paws of another. He leaned his head on her shoulder, trying his best to follow her advice and calm himself down. Trust Quaxo, he told himself.

Trust Quaxo.

Quaxo came into consciousness slowly. At first he could feel again, but he couldn't see. Gradually he opened his eyes, but was greet with blurry shapes that he couldn't make out. They were talking, he knew that much, but his mind garbled their voices until it was unintelligent noise. An occasional syllable could be understood, but nothing that could be made sense of.

He swatted listlessly at the annoying voices. Why wouldn't they just make sense? His head hurt; he didn't want to listen to babble. He rolled himself onto his side, groaning. These lights hurt too. They were too bright compared to his long darkness. Was everything out to bother him?

Something soft and warm rubbed against his shoulder. He purred with pleasure.

"Quaxo?" That word he understood. That voice he loved. He rolled back onto his back wiggling his front paws in delight. There she was—still blurry, but clearing: Victoria.

He craned his neck up and she bent down to meet him. He nuzzled her gingerly. "What happened?"

Victoria's smile contorted into a look of anxiety. Jennyanydots shook her head. "Honestly, boy, I don't know what's wrong with you. I've never seen anything like this before."

He couldn't, in all truthfulness, remember _why_ he was where he was or _how_ he had gotten where he was. "Um, like what before?"

"This condition of yours."

He cocked his head. "This what? What are you talking about?"

Jennyanydots sighed. "Your headaches—Victoria told me about them, the feinting spell…"

He cringed at the complete unmanly-ness of feinting. "I… passed out?" He substituted in the hope of saving what was left of his dignity.

Victoria nodded. "We were joking around, but then you started acting like you were in pain and feinted." _Again_ with the _feinting_. He would never live this down.

"How long have I been out?" he questioned.

Victoria winced. "A few… days…"

"Munkustrap should be coming to check on you any time now," the other queen interjected with the usual cheer present in her tone.

Quaxo hadn't even heard Jennyanydots. He gaped at what Victoria had told him. "_Days?_ How _many_?" How close was the Ball? Would he have to miss it just be cause of his stupid headaches?

"Only two," Jenny meowed brightly.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Only" was stretching it a bit far, but at least he still had two days until the Jellicle Ball.

The white queen lay down next to him, resting her chin on his chest. "Thank the Everlasting Cat you're alright."

He licked her forehead affectionately. "I'm fine now," he lied. The pain in his head was definitely still there. What in the name of the Heaviside Layer had caused this pain before? He_ knew_ it was familiar; what he didn't know was why.

"All the same," Jennyanydots went on in that motherly way of hers, "You should probably rest up until the Jellicle Ball. We wouldn't want a relapse."

He moaned. Two days of being cooped up in his pipe wasn't a tempting offer, but when Victoria pressed her nose to his all thoughts of resistance melted away. If it made her happy he would do so without a second thought.

If only these damn headaches would leave him alone!

Tugger and Jemima moped pointedly on the hood of one of the many old cars in the junkyard. Spreading the gossip of Quaxo and Victoria had only taken half a day to complete, and now no cat donned a face of surprise when the news reached their ears for the umpteenth time.

Jemima glanced over at Tugger and asked, "Hey, Tug, shouldn't you be over with Jenny to see how Quaxo is? Maybe he woke up."

Tugger stretched. "I doubt it. He was out cold last time I checked."

"Shouldn't you be a little more worried than this?" She bristled. For Quaxo's so-called "best friend" he didn't seem concerned at all.

The tom only shrugged. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened. He was fine last time, so why should I get bent out of shape this time?"

Jemima's eyes went wide. "It's happened before?"

He nodded. "It was last year around this time. I think he just gets nervous before the Ball or something."

She scowled. "What if there's more to it?"

"I wouldn't know; he wouldn't tell me why it happened last year. Probably didn't know himself." For all of this, the Rum Tum Tugger looked unshaken.

"You're impossible!" She growled, pulling herself to her feet, "If you won't be decent enough to visit your own 'best friend' then I'll just go and visit him."

The Rum Tum Tugger waved his tail dismissively. "Have fun with that."

She rolled her eyes and leapt grouchily off the car. "When you grow a conscious in that tiny brain of yours let me know," she hissed, storming off.

Tugger let out a small "mrow" of distress at her comment, but didn't follow. Why should he worry about something that he knew would turn out fine? He sighed and settled back into his relaxed position. He purred lightly, flexing his claws and leaving scratches in what was left of the car's paintjob. Quaxo would be fine, and the Jellicle Ball was only days away. What was there to be upset about?


	5. Jellicle Ball

**A/N: okie dokie then, so this is chap where the Jellicle Ball begins, and I do mean the one we see in CATS, therefore I'll do my best to keep it new and exciting and not just recite bits that all hardcore fans know by heart. There's no point in that. There WILL be a slight twist to it and it won't last for one day, but due to the circumstances…well I'll just let you read hehe.**

**SHORT CHAPPIE, HAHAHA.**

**See previous chapter about the licking thing**

**Disclaimer: CATS does not belong to me in any shape or form ****if it did Mistoffelees/Quaxo would be mine ::cackle::**

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_**Chapter Five**_

_**Jellicle Ball**_

**__**

There was something comfortingly familiar about the scene before him. He was tucked up neatly in his pipe, watching mystified as a white beauty moved gracefully across the ground. His sense of restraint, however, was no where near what it had been that night, and the itching in his paws to join her was building to an irresistible crescendo.

He put a paw hesitantly out of his pipe and waited for the reprimand—for someone to scold him for trying to take Victoria's spotlight. None came. He crept forward a bit more, gauging the reactions of the other's eyes on him. Smiles glistened in each glowing pair of eyes and—with new determination—he rushed out to her and joined the dance.

She welcomed him, adapting her well-practiced ballet for two. They twirled along together as other Jellicles crawled out of their hiding places. Each of them joined the dance, raising their voices to the waiting moonlight.

The dance reached its climax and slowly quieted, each cat moving to sprawl out on the ground while Munkustrap prepared to explain to the kits the meaning of the Jellicle Ball. Quaxo and Victoria were the last to sit, both reluctant to end the magic that had begun, but both knew that it wouldn't belong before it began again.

Quaxo licked Victoria's head a few times as Munkustrap spoke. Neither of them was truly listening, both too intoxicated by the other's presence to pay proper attention. It didn't matter. _They_ knew what purpose the Ball served already.

It wasn't long until they were swung into another whirling dance and the magic began again, flowing with such life and joy that it was as if there had never been a pause. The two drank it in like humans would wine. This was, very possibly, the best night of their lives.

Not that it would last.

Grizabella was the first disruption. The mirth of Tugger's well-rehearsed song was broken by the unwelcome cat's entrance. Quaxo had been a young kit when she had left and didn't recognize her scraggly coat and haggard eyes—not that it was particularly easy to discern the glamour cat amid her ruined state.

He crept warily toward her, craning his neck out to sniff her stained fur. Munkustrap shoved him back viciously, sending a warning glance his direction before turning back to Grizabella with a sneer. The tom stared at her for a second more before retreating as if disgusted by her close proximity.

Quaxo shook himself off after his tumble to the ground (thanks to Munkustrap). Victoria looked at him worriedly. Chances were she'd heard more about the glamour cat than he, as queens were given to gossip of such things.

She leaned forward and sniffed him a few times before wrinkling her nose. "You smell like her," she murmured under her breath. His eyes opened wide. Was she really so hated that even Victoria jeered at her scent?

Sharp pain lanced through his skull, far worse than last time: worse than the time in the past that he still couldn't remember. He suppressed a cry of pain, Grizabella's singing reaching him distantly through the fog of his mind. He slumped over onto Victoria who glanced about frantically for help, but all cats were focused on the glamour cat. No one would turn their eyes to their predicament.

Quaxo moaned as blackness filled in his vision. Something was shifting at the core of his being—an involuntary, but somehow familiar change. He didn't have time to riddle it out before everything went black.

* * *

_Macavity…

* * *

_When his eyes opened again he knew there was something definitely wrong. Victoria was not by his side. No one was around at all, but there were far off screeches: the sound of battle. He leapt to his paws, but the distance was somehow different. He tumbled down in a flurry of fur. 

"What the…?" He looked down at himself. His limbs were definitely longer—not by much, but enough to throw his balance off momentarily—and there was a glossy sheen to his pelt that had never been so prominent before. The white on his legs was gone, replaced with shiny jet black.

He was no longer Quaxo. Now he was Mistoffelees. He blinked, shook his head, and put some serious thought into what was going on.

A fight.

Mistoffelees.

Headaches.

It could only mean one thing, and he'd been too blind to see it before. The headaches were because Macavity had stepped within the bounds of his protections. He hadn't alerted Munkustrap.

What had he done?

The roar of battle reached a climax. He pulled himself to his paws once again, being careful to better judge the new distance between his paws. He was close now, ears pricked and alert. He could smell them, each of them, and blood too. Panic swelled in his chest.

Who was hurt?

There was silence now. This was even worse. What was going on?

He stepped out into the clearing where the rest of the cats lay, attending wounds. Munkustrap's eyes landed on him and he let out a loud snarl. "Traitor!"


	6. Traitor

**A/N: AHAHA YES. THE CORRUPTION. THE ANGST. ::coughcough:: erm… ANYWAYS, next chappie is now up! Yaaay! SUSPENCE. Hehehe**

**I'm still not getting many reviews. Some alerts yes (which are good, don't get me wrong. Alerts are love, but would it hurt to alert –and- review::cute big-eyed Mistoffelees eyes:: ) but only seven reviews, from only three different people. That makes me sad.**

**Pretty low word count on this one (UNDER A THOUSAND, OMFG), but I promise I'll make it up to you with the next one. I'll make it nice and loooooong ;3**

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Chapter Six 

_**Traitor**_

The Rum Tum Tugger was the first cat to move, launching himself in front of his friend with a protective hiss. "Hold up, hold up!" Munkustrap glared back in response.

"Step out of the way, Tugger," he snarled, creeping toward Mistoffelees with hackles raised.

Tugger settled his paws, looking determined. "What has he done?"

As other cats sat in stunned silence Victoria seemed to regain her voice as she inched toward the cat that seemed to familiar, but so different. "What's going on?"

Munkustrap prowled his way toward him, snapping his jaws menacingly. "Lair," he hissed, talking to no one but Mistoffelees now, as if no one existed, "Conspiring with Macavity? You swore you'd tell me when he came within _one hundred feet_. I'd say we're past that, wouldn't you?" He glanced over at Demeter who was nursing the wounds from the battle Mistoffelees had just missed.

Mistoffelees opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound. How could he justify this? What had he to say in his own defense? He'd been stupid, ignorant, blinded, and now the whole tribe would suffer. He made a squeak, trying to warm up his vocal chords so that they would actually function.

"Dueteronomy!" Munkustrap snarled, "Old Dueteronomy! He's gone! And it's _your. Fault._"

Mistoffelees felt the breath catch in his throat. Dueteronomy? One of the most loved cats? Gone?! His mouth felt dry when he could finally form words. "Dead?"

"No," Demeter sneered, pulling herself painfully to her paws, "but as good as. _Macavity_," she spat out the name, "took him."

"W-Wait!" Mistoffelees stuttered, still in shock, "I… I can help!"

Plato rose now. "Do we look like we need _your_ help? _Mistoffelees?_" he snarled the name with even more venom than Demeter had put into "Macavity".

Victoria was examining him, confusion and frustration contorting her beautiful features. He stared back at her with pleading eyes. Revelation dawned in her gorgeous eyes and she reached a paw out to him. "Quaxo?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but again he was interrupted. This time it was Etcetera. Her loud, piercing cry of mourning stirred the heart of every cat present. In some, it rose sympathy for the anguished black tom, but in others it brought contempt.

"It's his fault!" shrieked Electra, beginning to launch herself at Mistoffelees. Jemima tried to stop her, but was plowed over by the she-cat, now blind with bloodlust. She tackled Mistoffelees, doing her best to inspire the tom to fight back, but he only wrestled. He pushed her away from him, keeping her just far enough away that she couldn't do lasting damage.

"Coward!" She snarled in rage, "Worthless! Arrogant! Traitorous! _Coward!_"

His ears fell down in shame. He backed up, tail drooping sorrowfully behind him. He let out a pitiful, beseeching mew, but few cared. He was surrounded by hostile, furious, prickling cats. Their eyes bore into him, daring him to run.

And there she was—a flash of white in the mass of dark, blood clump pelts. She was standing protectively in front of him, Tugger at her side. Mistoffelees gulped. He didn't want them to fight the whole tribe for him. It would be better if he just died; he could never see them hurt on his sake.

Slowly, gingerly, he leaned forward and pressed his mussel to Victoria's. "Go," he whispered to her, giving her a final, farewell lick on the ear. He turned to Tugger, admiration and thanks gleaming in his eyes. "Take her out of here."

"But…!" Tugger began, stopping when a glint of steel flashed through his friend's gaze.

"Go," he murmured.

"No!" She wailed when the Rum Tum Tugger began pulling her away. She struggled, worming and writhing in her attempt to get back to Mistoffelees. "I won't!" she shrieked.

Painful minutes of this ticked by slowly, until at last she gave up, sobbing into Tugger's pelt. "How can you abandon him?" she whispered hoarsely into his chest, "How can you just leave him there?"

Tugger's tail wrapped comfortingly around her. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust his voice enough to say it anyway. His own throat was closed and choked with unshed tears.

The hatred glinting in Munkustrap's eyes was unbridled, but deserved. Mistoffelees braced himself for whatever would happen next, knowing he deserved it all. He tucked his head in his paws, lowering his tail and his haunches: a bow of apology.

He heard a sneer ripple through the group of cats only seconds before claws dug into his side. Distantly he heard Victoria's gasp, but more immediate was the sound of his own howl of agony as more and more sets of claws and teeth pierced him. He could feel the blood flow, could feel it clot in his pelt.

But when his agony reached its zenith things began to numb. The sounds all around him fell from roars to muted murmurs. The sensation of claws tearing flesh became that of gentle paw strokes… Victoria…

And finally, with it all, went his vision, is perception, his consciousness—all of it falling into a silken, velvet black.

**

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A/N: I'll probably have the next chappie up quick. This fic is writing really fast compared to my other ones. Guess it's just 'cause I love CATS so much! Hehe. Anyways, review, **_**review, REVIEW!!!!**_** Luv ya!**


	7. The Magical Mr Mistoffelees

**A/N: I hope no one honestly thought I was going to kill Mistoffelees.**

**Random Person::raises hand hesitantly:: um… I kinda thought you were…**

**Me::mouth hangs open::smites:: You honestly thought I was gonna hurt MISTO::cuddles him:: You guys are crazy.**

**Oh and yeah, there's song lyrics mixed into this one 'cause I'm amazing that way. All of it done from memory (except for the word "patent" which I couldn't remember how it was spelled haha)**

**Oh and the whole thing with Cassandra… if you watch the clip of that song… she really does eheh heh heh…**

**I was a big softy and posted this one WAY sooner than intended (I mean like, several DAYS sooner), but you'll all have to wait for the next one heh heh. It'll very possibly be the last chapter so I want to get as many reviews as possible before the reviews dwindle out to almost nothing.**

**On to the fic…**

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Chapter Seven 

_**The Magical Mr. Mistoffelees**_

The first thing that would come back was consciousness, though his eyes refused to open. Slowly other senses began filling in: touch, smell, hearing, taste. Still, no response from his eyes. He made a groan, a copper tang filling his mouth. The smell of stale blood was very much present all around him, mixed in with junkyard rank.

He tested his limbs experimentally. First his paw, then his leg, then his tail, his head, his ears. It was an agonizingly slow process, but bit by bit his body was under his control again. This was not the Heaviside Layer, though he knew he had to be dead. Why would they spare him at the last minute?

Finally his eyes, which had felt glued shut, obeyed his command as well. Things were blurry at first, but they fell into hesitant focus. He glanced around him. It was the junkyard still, with the moon sinking dangerously close to the horizon.

"_When Old Dueteronomy, just before dawn…"_ Munkustrap's words echoed through his head. Dawn could not be far off now, but where was Old Dueteronomy? Had they found him?

Would they be angry to see him alive? Could they really blame him? After all, he was young, in love, reckless…

No, of course they could blame him. They had every right to. He'd had plenty warning that Macavity was near, but he'd been too stupid to listen to his own instincts. Now Mistoffelees had been thrust on him in a last measure to protect the tribe.

But he'd been too late.

"_Dead?"_

"_No, but as good as."_

Demeter's tone—usually so soft and understanding—had scared him more than anything else.

Well, almost.

What was worse was the idea of Victoria between him and the mob of angry cats. Tugger too. Both of them, his closest friends, throwing themselves into the line of fire that way. It was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced.

He suppressed a shiver, pulling himself to his paws with aching limbs.

Wait. He'd been injured—should be dead. Where had that pain gone? He looked down at himself, fur clumped with blood, all of it old and crusted, none fresh. How could that be? He should have bled until there was nothing left.

He carefully prodded his side, waiting for the explosion of agony. Nothing. No wound. No scar. No missing fur. As if nothing had ever been wrong. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in his distress. "What in the name of the Everlasting Cat…?"

There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing. He was bloody, but perfectly fine.

"There's no _way_ I imagined all that…" He paused, a look of wonder passing across his features. "What if…?"

He lifted his paw to stare questioningly down at the pink paw pad. With his other paw he carefully drew unsheathed claws across it. He winced when they tore the skin, a little bead of blood forming above the cut. He stared at it—willed something to happen.

Nothing.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. Of _course_ it hadn't worked. He might be magical, but he was no Jennyanydots. He set his now tender paw on the ground and cringed. Now walking would hurt. How intelligent of him.

Curiosity _did_ kill the cat after all.

He wandered around the junkyard, hearing no cats, waiting as the moon sank lower and lower. His paw hurt; there was no one around; everyone thought he was dead; Old Dueteronomy had been kidnapped with little time left until the Jellicle Choice.

Today was just _great_.

The paw that he'd cut tingled slightly. He sighed and lifted it up, wondering what he could have possibly done to it now. He gave the cut a few quick licks; it was looking awfully dirty and infection was something he'd like to avoid.

When he pulled his tongue away he saw a faint glowing from the edges of the cut.

"Huh?" his tongue still stuck partially out of his mouth as he marveled at the sight before him.

Sparkles darted around and out of the small cut—his own personal, whirling display of stars. Something that resembled small blue lightning crackled around his paw and was gone. He blinked rapidly, wondering what he had eaten to bring on such hallucinations.

The cut was gone.

Curiosity killed the cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

_**

* * *

**_Etcetera was curled up against Jemima, body trembling. She'd cried for so long that there were no more tears to shed. Jemima looked equally distressed, but would not let herself cry. She had to be a strong. 

Plato looked far too pleased with himself for his own good, and Tugger certainly noticed. He stormed up to the other tom, slamming against him with his shoulder. "You look real damn proud of yourself, don't you, _dog?_" Tugger hissed.

Plato bore his teeth in response. "He betrayed us. I'm glad he's dead."

"He was a good cat!" Tugger growled in Mistoffelees's defense.

"Any cat that has sympathy for him should join him," he spat on Tugger's paws, glaring back up with defiant smugness.

"You _first_," Tugger snarled, bunching his muscles to spring.

"I don't believe you." The voice was small, quiet, pained. Both of the toms glanced up from their soon-to-be fight and searched for it. Tugger sought out the source of the sound first and relaxed. He slunk away from Plato, moving over to the shivering white bundle. "I don't believe that he's dead," she whispered.

Tugger nuzzled her softly, sending venomous eye messages back to Plato, who still hadn't moved. Victoria fell against him, unsure of what else to do. She wanted comfort, but not from Tugger. She wanted Quaxo's fur to press against. She wanted to breathe in his scent and forget the world. Instead it was Tugger, fury and concern and sorrow all billowing off him at once, mixing into a sour odor that burnt her noise.

Although, will all the emotions she was feeling, she couldn't have smelled any better than he.

Plato was amused. It radiated away from him with such strength that she could smell it even from this distance, though she wasn't looking his way to see it. It came closer, got stronger, and she wanted to scream. Suddenly he was right there, face in hers, looking at her with what he must have thought looked like sympathy.

"Sorry, babe, you need some one to talk to?" Plato cooed.

"She doesn't need _you_, you sniveling pollicle. Get the hell away!"

Why did everyone seem to think that she needed help defending herself against Plato? Couldn't she handle a swine like that by herself? She stayed silent, refusing to look at him. She felt Tugger's muscles bunch again beside her. There was going to be a fight if she didn't do something, and right now, more than ever, she wanted _her_ claws to be the ones that sunk into Plato's flesh.

Plato didn't seem to notice the danger he was in—not that he ever did. He pressed his nose to Victoria's, giving her a swift lick across the mussel. "You'll be fine with me…" he purred.

His purring didn't last long; she made sure of that. It came to an abrupt halt: ended by his howl of pain when her claws sunk into the hollow between his neck and his shoulder. He stumbled back with a look of surprise. He glanced accusingly at Tugger, but it was met only with laughter. Slowly, in disbelief, his gaze trailed back to Victoria, who met it hungrily.

Her tail lashed behind her, and she sprung. Plato didn't move to defend himself, only stared stunned as she tackled him. He was slammed into the ground, the breath escaping from his lungs as she tore at him.

It was Munkustrap who had to come and stop Victoria—Tugger was too busy laughing and cheering her on for that—but he had trouble doing it alone. He had to call in Alonzo to help pry her off.

The white cat remained where they set her down, sides heaving and eyes almost red with anger. Alonzo ran his tail comfortingly along her back. "Victoria," he purred, judging her reaction before continuing on, "It's alright…" he meowed uncertainly.

She spun to face him. "It's not alright! Tell me how it can possibly be alright!"

Alonzo hung his head sadly. "I'm sorry."

She didn't respond, just looked away, turning her gaze upward.

Alonzo stepped away, pulling Munkustrap with him. When they were out of earshot of the mourning queen Alonzo spoke. "It was rash of you to kill, Munkustrap. It would have been a simple matter to banish him, but _kill_? Have you lost all of your senses?"

Alonzo had not been one of the many to turn on Mistoffelees that night. Munkustrap could never quite shake off his disapproving looks.

The tribe protector made an indignant squall. "What did you expect me to do? Demeter…!"

The black-and-white cut him off. "Demeter isn't the whole tribe, Munkustrap! When will you learn that?"

Munkustrap bristled. "It was Quaxo's putting Victoria before everyone else that brought on Mac-"

"Exactly! Quaxo is just a young tom! Hardly more than a kit! _You_'re our tribe protector! We expect you to have better judgment!"

"I'm sorry I'm not the perfect tribe protector!" He spat, beginning to stalk away, "Maybe you should go get Mistoffelees to lead you!" He snarled over his shoulder.

Alonzo bounded ahead of him in two leaps. "Overreacting a bit, aren't we?" He prodded Munkustrap's shoulder, "What are you? A cat or a kitten?"

Munkustrap's hackles rose in offence, but before he could say anything Alonzo was prowling away. "I used to respect you," he murmured, shaking his head. Munkustrap's tail hung shamefully behind him as he stepped back to find some place quiet to think.

_**

* * *

**_A confused chorus of "What are we going to do?" and "How will we find Old Dueteronomy?" had sprung up among the queens and younger toms. Tugger grated his teeth in frustration. Why ask? Why not do something for themselves? Macavity was powerful, but he was only one cat. Why didn't anyone act against him? 

Okay, so he knew the answer, but it was still getting really obnoxious listening to them all.

He sprung up onto a tall pile of junk, making sure that his voice would carry properly. There was a flash of unbelievably shiny black pelt—not that any of the distressed she-cats had noticed—and an unmistakable scent wafting in from not far off. Whether imagined or real, these things made him even more daring that usual.

"What do you _do_?" he called out, bringing the junkyard to a hush. As he spoke, he stared pointedly at first Plato, then Electra, then Munkustrap—who had returned. "You _ought_ to ask the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees," he purred, rubbing in their faces that they _couldn't._ He glanced apologetically at Victoria, but smiled when she put on a grimly determined face and nodded for him to go on. "The _original. Conjuring. Cat._ There can be no doubt about that."

He heard a few doubtful mews ripple through them, but he called all to attention again. "Please! Listen to me, and don't scoff," he threw in the last word for the fun of it; they were all so drawn in already. The sight of a near-sparkling black tail flashing just behind a pile of nearby garbage brought a broad smile to the Rum Tum Tugger's face. This was no hallucination. "All his inventions are of his own… bat."

He hopped down from the pile of junk, looking to capture their attention even further with interaction. "There's no such cat in the metropolis," he went on, in an announcer-esque voice, "he holds all the patent monopolies for performing surprising illusions and creating eccentric confusion."

Victoria looked a little pained, but still wanting, just as much as he had, to make them realize the consequences of what they had done. Of course, Tugger now knew that Mistoffelees was alive, so all that was left was the introduction.

He moved his paws dramatically. "The greatest magicians have something to learn from Mr. Mistoffelees' conjuring turn!"

Tugger, always the master of making up songs on the spot—usually about himself—was singing now, doing his best to get the group of cats riled up before Mistoffelees made his entrance—who was taking his own sweet time about it too! Tugger had tried to put in as many cues as he could, but none had been answered by that familiar black cat!

_Last chance, twinkle toes,_ the thought, coming up on the last possible cue he could give, _you _better_ get that sparkly tail of yours out here!_

"You've seen it one moment, but then it is _gawn,_ but you'll find it next week lying out on the lawn…"

Of course. It had to be the most dramatic style of entrance ever imagined. There was a collective gasp as none other than the original conjuring cat himself came floating down from some unknown place above their heads. After the initial shock was gone, Tugger managed to get several more choruses of "And we all say: oh, well I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees?" going, which slowly and surely were filled in by—almost—every voice.

Mistoffelees was milking it much more than Tugger had expected, but it only made the positive image of him that more powerful. As the magical cat performed awe-inspiring dance moves more and more cats found themselves smiling and laughing and believing that Mistoffelees wasn't at fault—or at least, could be forgiven.

Not that Tugger could blame them: Mistoffelees' magic was nothing to sneeze at. Mistoffelees stared curiously down at his paws for a moment before twirling around and sending a shot of blue lightning at a distant pile of trash. There were gasps, oohs, and aahs as the black cat sent blue lightning bolts darting about them. One was aimed directly at Victoria, but instead of hurting her—as many cats had feared—it merely lit her in a radiant glow and left her giggling and bouncing even more than the rest of them.

It was his final magical act that left them all speechless. It seemed at first like any other parlor trick. He pulled a large square of red fabric from a hidden place in the bumper of one of the many ruined cars. He pointed extravagantly at Cassandra, who, in turn, overreacted.

"Who _me?_" she squealed, putting a paw dramatically across her chest, "no, no, I couldn't! You really want me to? Oh well, okay then! I will!" He let out a gleeful mew, shimmying under the cover of the cloth.

There were moments of silence, where the mass under the cloth writhed and wriggled. It changed, shifting from the small, thin form of Cassandra to a larger, bulkier form. After a dazzlingly un-required display of magical flare, Mistoffelees yanked the red fabric away to reveal Old Dueteronomy!

There was a collective gasp from the watching cats. Tugger was the first to move again. He prowled slowly forward, reaching his paw out to touch it to the old cat's paw. He repeated the verse of the song, leisurely, in awe before Mistoffelees rushed happily to Dueteronomy, nuzzling and licking the old cat with a rush of elation.

The other cats moved in around him, reaching out to Dueteronomy and then skyward in their joy. They all weaved and pranced in a delighted dance; all of them ecstatic to have their Jellicle leader once more.

Cassandra appeared quickly after on the sideline, rushing in to steal a dance with "her" Magical Mr. Mistoffelees before Victoria could move to him. He danced with her respectfully, but all the while his eyes darted to Victoria. She looked irritated, but one charming smile from him and she relaxed.

When the dance was over and all of the cats had gone once again to wait patiently for Dueteronomy's choice. Mistoffelees curled up next to Victoria, nuzzling her affectionately. A pair of silver paws stepped in front of him. He glanced up to see Munkustrap staring down at him. It was impossible to read the emotion in the older tom's eyes.

He nodded respectfully. "Hello, Munkustrap." Victoria nodded as well.

"Mistoffelees, I need to have a word with you." His words were cold. Mistoffelees gulped and stood hesitantly. It was going to be a long night.

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A/N: And –ahaha- lookie who didn't have to make the Jellicle Ball last more than one night like I thought I would! Hooraay!**


	8. The Beginning of a Story

**A/N: WARNING: LAST CHAPTER.**

**I hope you guys like it. You know I love you all. Thanks so much for reading. This was great; I really had fun writing this fic and reading all of your wonderful reviews.**

**Don't worry, though, there will be many more CATS fanfics to come. I promise. ::throws love everywhere::**

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**The Beginning of a Story**_

Separating himself from Victoria, after having been so sure he'd never see her again, was painful. She too looked hurt. She reached her paw out, trailing it along his side as he left as if in a plea to stay. He couldn't pause in his walk, but he twirled his tail lovingly around her paw before she was out of his reach.

They walked for a long time, tension crackling between them like the blue lightning of Mistoffelees' display.

"Mistoffelees…" Munkustrap murmured formally.

"Yes, Munkustrap?" As hard as he tried, it was impossible to completely remove the hostile edge from his voice. Munkustrap cringed and Mistoffelees almost smirked. He could hardly believe how much pleasure he was getting out of another cat's discomfort—such things weren't in his nature—but for once it felt good to watch the usually level-headed cat squirm.

_That's what you get, Munkustrap,_ he thought bemusedly, forgetting for that moment how he had blamed himself not long before, _That's what you deserve._

Munkustrap sighed. "I don't know how you survived, but I'm… I'm sorry," he sat down, curling his tail around his body. "Killing you—or trying to—was… stupid."

It took a great effort not to nod in agreement. Some of his logic was returning, and he knew that disrespecting the tribe protector after the crime he had committed wouldn't put him in any better standings.

"I've been thinking about banishing you." Mistoffelees' breath caught in his throat; banishment meant that he could never see Victoria, or Tugger, or any of the Jellicles again. The idea hurt. Munkustrap went on as if he hadn't heard the black tom's gasp. "I realize, though, that I can't. You're all we have to warn us against Macavity and…" Munkustrap gulped, it was taking a great deal of humility to admit it, "you're probably the only one would could fight against him and win."

Mistoffelees blinked in surprise. Those were gigantic compliments, but also heavy burdens. He waited for Munkustrap to finish.

"But Mistoffelees, if something like this ever happens again I'll have no choice but to believe you're in league with Macavity," he looked up, meeting Mistoffelees' gaze with a solemn look, "I'll have to kill you, and I'll have to be sure you stay dead. You're one cat I can't afford on his side."

The magical cat opened his mouth to speak, but Munkustrap shook his head, gesturing with his tail for him to join the others again. Mistoffelees knew—though he couldn't say if it was his powers or his instinct that told him so—that Munkustrap had his own personal problems he needed to work out alone; he also knew that Demeter would be meeting him here soon.

He nodded to the silver tabby respectfully. Turning to go, he stopped and glanced back at the tribe protector. "It's almost dawn; don't forget." Munkustrap flicked his tail, a sign of both recognition and dismissal.

The walk back felt longer than the walk to their random place in the junkyard had been, maybe because he knew the cat he loved was waiting—probably impatiently—for his return. He knew that when he got there he would see her and be able to breathe in her scent again without the terrorizing idea that it might be the very last time.

As he neared the buzz of dozens of voices reached his magically acute ears. Distantly he could see Victoria's white form. As he got closer his enchanted eyesight revealed the Rum Tum Tugger talking animatedly to her. It was a handful more yards before he could pick out Tugger's deep slur of a voice. He wasn't exactly sure what the tom was saying, but it didn't matter. He was close now; so close to both of them. He didn't bother to try and listen, but bounded toward them with a speed that could only belong to a conjuring cat. He was by their sides in no time, nuzzling both of them with purrs of joy. He had been so sure that Munkustrap was taking him aside to banish him. The sight of his friends and the knowledge that he wouldn't be leaving them made his heart feel light and airy.

They were just as happy to see him, if not more. Tugger guffawed loudly, thumping Mistoffelees on the back with his fluffy Maine Coon tail.

"I knew he'd let you off the hook!" He crowed, bursting with happy laughter.

Victoria let out a musical giggle. "I should have known he couldn't hold the magical Mr. Mistoffelees at fault!"

They were taking things so lightly it was almost upsetting, but he ignored the urge to berate them and lay down contentedly between them. It was the ending of what he knew was only the beginning of his magical life.

_**EPILOGUE**_

Many more cats were crowded into Quaxo's little pipe than could possibly be comfortable. There were the young queens—only a few months out of their kitten stage—Jemima and Etcetera falling out of the end, peering in with excited mews and trying to get a better idea of what exactly was going on. Within the pipe, crammed together and pressed against it's metal walls until the rusted structure creaked and groaned with effort was nearly every cat in the tribe. Tucked securely into the back of the pipe, with much more leg room than the rest of them, were Victoria, Quaxo, and the Rum Tum Tugger.

Both Tugger and Quaxo's faces were contorted with anxiety. They were staring down at Victoria who groaned and squirmed slightly. Other than that she didn't really move. She let out a gasp and Quaxo glanced fearfully at Tugger. Tugger looked like he was trying to calm Quaxo down, but his own fur was standing on end. Only the queens seemed relaxed and excited, while every tom in the pipe was twittering nervously.

Quaxo nearly leapt out of his pelt when Victoria let out an agonized meow. It was only seconds, however, before her meow was joined by several high-pitched mews as blind and bloody kittens tumbled around their new world. Victoria smiled a worn and tired smile. She twisted around to lick the blood off her newborn babies, but first looked up to her mate. His chest was extended and bursting with pride as he stared down at their kittens.

Tugger watched in utter fascination as the little puffs of wet fur flopped and dragged themselves along the floor of the pipe. One, in its search for its mother, rolled onto his paws, leaving sticky red blood in its path. Instead of hissing in revulsion he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a coo and gently pushed the mewling kitten back to its mother.

She smiled warmly up at him and cleaned up her kitten. Quaxo nuzzled her lovingly, staring in awe and wonder at their litter of three. A collective "aww" rose from the crammed mass of cats around them.

"Hey!" Etcetera wailed, trying to shove her way through the group, "I want to see!" Jemima was right behind her, letting out similar complaints. When they were close enough to hear the little mews Jemima's jaw dropped open.

"You're kidding; we _missed it_?"

"Yep," Pouncival, who was near the front, mewed cockily, "And, boy, was it something!" She shot him a venomous glare and he laughed.

As if there was no one else in the pipe but his family and his kitten-hood friend Quaxo glanced over at Tugger. "So, Tuggs, what do you think?" His eyes swept once again across his family.

Tugger blinked and shook his head slowly. "They're so… tiny…"

Quaxo laughed and then turned to Victoria. "They need names," he purred.

"Mhmm…" she murmured sleepily, her eyelids drooping. In only moments she had fallen to sleep with her babies tucked neatly against the curve of her stomach.

He nuzzled her softly. "Alright, sleep first." Quaxo gave each of his children a gentle lick on the head. Yes, this was one heck of a wonderful story, and the best knowledge of all was that he was no where near it's end.

_fin_

**A/N: EEEEEEEEEE, KITTENS!!! SO CUUUUUUTE. ::flail:: I **_**had**_** to do it. There was no WAY I was passing up kittens.**

**I hope the ending was satisfying; I tried to wrap it up as best as I could. I'm so happy with this fic. Even though it's over please, please, PLEASE find the kindness in your heart to review; this is one of my best.**


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